Unyielding
by Kharina
Summary: It's amazing how much you miss a wand when you don't have one. Bellatrix worries about how she will serve her Lord without one, but a solution comes from an unlikely source. Oneshot. Mild RodolphusBellatrix.


**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything you recognise.

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She flicked her wand at the cobweb-draped chandelier in the centre of the ceiling. She had no idea such scruffy rooms existed within the rich, pristine confines of Malfoy Manor, but she supposed they were hidden away from the rest so merited much less attention. Besides, the Malfoys' remaining house-elf was as terrified as anyone else of Bellatrix Lestrange.

The candles stayed lit, and too late she realised she had no wand in her hand.

"Damn it," she murmured in irritation. Her wand had been stolen from her a full week ago now, yet still she forgot the lack of its assistance. Heaving her body, twisted and battered, still not fully recovered from the effects of torture, she staggered onto a chair and struggled to extinguish the candles without magic. It took her several minutes before she could hobble back to bed, bumping into the table in the dark and adding another bruise to her already black-and-blue body.

Except for Azkaban, Bellatrix could not remember another time where she had been without a wand for so long. From an early age she'd stolen old wands from dusty rooms in the house, taking them with her to practice with. During Hogwarts holidays, the magic-rich atmosphere of the manor enabled her to experiment without worrying about her Trace: they could never pinpoint the magic to her. And since she'd been seventeen, she'd never let it out of her possession, save when it was forcibly taken from her during her imprisonment.

She let out a shout of frustration. How was she meant to serve the Dark Lord now, win back his good graces? She needed a wand, any wand, desperately, but there was no way to have one made, not after Ollivander's escape.

"Bella?" A hoarse call from the room to her right. Rodolphus.

He'd been terribly injured in the first battle, and was only now beginning to regain enough strength to walk the length of his room. Not that she cared. It was easier not to have him hanging over all the time. Nevertheless, she was astonished and (although she would never admit it) worried when she heard her door opening, and he all but fell inside.

She groaned as she struggled up for a second time, managing to drag him to the bed and deposit him on it.

"What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing!" She exclaimed.

He gave a rasping cough. "C- coming to see you," he managed to croak. "Y-you s-shouted out." A few incoherent croaks followed, from which she distinguished the word "help."

"Yes, because you're really in a position to help me," she said sarcastically.

He gave another shuddering, hacking cough. "W-what's wrong?"

She sighed heavily as she sat down beside him. "I'm just fed up with having to do everything without a wand," she grumbled.

"You haven't got a ---" His shock made the volume of his exclamation a little loud for his condition to bear, making him fall into another coughing fit.

"No. The Potter boy took it." Her frustration mounted in the pause that followed. "How in Merlin's name am I supposed to do anything for my Lord if I have no wand? I'm _useless!_"

"You're n-not useless." A cough. "B-beautiful."

She snorted. "For Merlin's sake," she snapped. "What's looking nice, not that I do at the moment, got anything to do with it? Is it going to win battles? Is it going to serve the Dark Lord?"

"I was… just thinking aloud… didn't mean to upset you." He paused for breath. "B-Bella," he began after a while, "don't need… my wand."

"What?" She breathed, hardly daring to believe it. Finally, she gave her husband her full attention, locking gazes with him. "You'd really lend me your wand?"

He beamed at her, as much as someone so ill and tired could. "Of c-course. I d-don't need it… if it helps you…"

"Where is it?" She exclaimed, leaping to her feet.

"M-my room… show you," he croaked.

Her face clouded as she realised Rodolphus was in no condition to move.

"Stay there," she commanded as he struggled to sit up. "Can you tell me where it is? Once I have it I can levitate you back."

"Big desk… black… in d-drawer. The first drawer o-on the r-right."

Energy suddenly restored, Bellatrix hurried to Rodolphus' room. Opening the drawer he had described, she found a long rectangular box: an Ollivander box. Fingers now shaking in anticipation, she almost ran back to her room. She knew enough of wandlore to realise that she would have to take it from Rodolphus himself to gain its allegiance: taking it from a desk would not have the same effect.

He smiled as he took the box from her and opened it. "My c-clever Bella," he murmured. "I… forgot that."

He extracted it and handed it to her. As her fingers curled around the polished wood, she felt a surging sensation pass through her, the magic's sudden reclamation of her body, and a shower of colourful sparks fell from the tip.

"Yes!" She exclaimed. She pointed the wand at many objects in turn, making them spin, fly, flare alight. She was breathing slightly heavily, and glowing with pleasure, when she finally turned back to face Rodolphus.

"Unicorn hair?"

"Yes," he replied. "T-twelve inches. Flexible…" he coughed. "Willow."

She nodded. "Yes, I can see. Thank you." She laughed, her eyes gleaming. "The Dark Lord will be pleased… yes, I think he will. He may not have been too happy with me of late," she murmured, speaking more to herself than her husband, "but he knows I am faithful… yes, he will be delighted I can fight for him again."

"Bella," Rodolphus rasped. "I… I love you."

What a sentence to kill her good spirits. "Rodolphus, you know the Dark Lord does not appreciate sentimentality." As she saw his face predictably fall, she modified her reply. "I know you do. Thank you for the wand."

She levitated him back to his own room. It took little out of her, despite her own injuries: the return of a wand seemed to have energised her. She could not wait to inform the Dark Lord, _her_ Lord, of the excellent news.

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